Reflections Of Things To Come (Young Loki + Thor)

“GIVE IT TO ME!” Loki reached up, but Thor lifted his hand higher. The difference in height was just enough to leave the shorter brother looking up in frustration and anger.

“Why? What is so important about this that you so desperately wish for me to not touch it?”

Loki grabbed hold of his brother’s muscular arm and tried to pull it down, but to no avail; Thor was simply too strong.

“Because you are too heavy-handed! You do not appreciate the delicacy with which some things need to be handled! He dragged down hard again. “Thor, give it back!”

To his annoyance, the blonde-haired Prince wriggled out of his grasp and danced backwards from him, waving the fragile scroll, “Come and get it!” he taunted, grinning at the raven-haired youth who was glaring at him. The teenager was getting really angry at how the elder Prince was winding him up, as he so often did, usually through boredom while there were no classes or training sessions on.

Loki took a step towards him and he waved the scroll again, small puffs of powder escaping it and falling to the floor. “Come on! Give it your best shot, brother!” He held it towards the younger Prince teasingly, who then approached him to try to retrieve the precious object, but Thor raised it up again.

Suddenly, Loki’s temper snapped and he felt a surge of power within him. Unable to control the unexpected rush of what was tantamount to surplus raw magic, it burst from him in a pulse of green energy. With a look of utter shock on his face, Thor flew backwards off his feet landing heavily on his backside and the scroll fell from his hand almost in slow motion towards the marble floor.

At that moment, everything seemed to freeze – or at least to slow down immensely; Thor was still travelling backwards with the surprise of the fall plastered on his face, the scroll was inches from the floor and the inevitable damage it would incur. Loki observed all this in a calm and detached manner, deciding what to do before the brief interlude passed. Several things were happening and he had to make a quick decision as to what to do with the scant time he had been afforded. As he lunged for the dry, crumbly scroll with the intention of saving it, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a pot figurine falling to the floor from a shelf. But it was in the opposite direction to the scroll he was now cradling safely in both hands as he twisted his body to land underneath it. His eyes watched on in horror as the figurine smashed into a thousand pieces, the passage of time having returned to normal.

“What was that?!” Asked a dazed Thor; two seconds ago he had been winding Loki up for a bit of fun and now he was sprawled backwards on the floor while Loki stood clutching his precious scroll. As he got to his feet, he realised Loki was not moving – he was staring at something on the floor. The golden haired Prince slowly walked over, rubbing his behind where it hurt from landing on the hard floor, and joined his younger dark haired brother.

“What…?” he began, then he stopped, his heart sinking.

“The figurine…” Breathed Loki.

They were in trouble. They were in serious trouble.

“Look what you have done!” Exclaimed Thor, pointing at the fragments that were scattered all over the floor. There was a pattern to them; a definite point of impact was surrounded by a starburst pattern of tiny shards and dust. A sorry looking head had rolled to one side and a broken arm had created a trail in the debris where it had skidded across to stop a few feet away.

“If you had not been behaving like such a dim-witted bully…” Loki began in an angry low voice, “… then none of this would have happened!” His words rose into a crescendo and the air vibrated as his temper rose again. Thor had crouched down to pick up a couple of the larger pieces and had his back to Loki. It was fortunate he had for, unknown to them both, the young Prince’s eyes were losing their vibrant green colour and were becoming a deep crimson red.

“It matters not, “Sighed Thor, examining the broken pottery, “calm down Loki. We must clear this up and go to admit to Mother what we have done.”

Loki felt his anger dissipate and a new emotion replaced it. Fear? Apprehension? No – dread. His eyes returned to their crystal green colour and he had an idea.

“No, Thor. Wait. Do not touch it.” He crossed to his older brother and placed a pale hand on his shoulder. Thor looked up at him. “What, Loki? There is no time like the present. We must get this over and done with – we are in so much trouble!” He stood up, the piece of pottery looking very small and frail in his huge hand.

Loki took it from him. “I can put this right.” He said earnestly, looking up at Thor, “I promise you! I can – I can mend this and Mother will never know of it. She will not suspect a thing and we will not have to suffer her…” He was going to say ‘wrath’, but it was the wrong word, “… her disappointment.” His elder brother frowned, not following him, “But how, Brother?” He asked, “There is not another like it! It was…”

“Thor! Trust me.” Loki placed the piece of the figurine back on the floor where Thor had taken it from. “Go and sit over there and stay out of my way.” He said, pushing the bigger Prince in the direction of a red leather armchair. Confused somewhat by Loki’s sudden business-like tone, Thor did as he had been told.

Then he witnessed something he had never seen before and the memory of it stayed with him forever.

Loki’s outfit subtly altered; the harshly cut tunic in black leather and green wool seemed to morph somehow into a long black robe emblazoned with green runes and his features became more serious, yet had a serene quality about them. His pale angular face, somewhat feminine for a teenage boy, seemed to glow with a surreal light; his green eyes lit with an emerald fire and power radiated off him. Thor sat, transfixed, staring at the magical transformation of his little runt of a brother into a completely different creature as the magic filled him and altered him, manifesting its beauty in him.

Then things began to happen to the smashed ornament. Firstly, the fine dust seemed to be blown by a silent breeze back towards the point on the floor where the figurine had met its end then, as the air began to hum with Loki’s raw and – as yet – untamed and untested magic, the larger pieces gravitated towards the same spot. Beads of sweat formed on Loki’s high pale forehead as he now closed his glowing eyes in concentration and the light around him grew brighter. Fragments now flew from around the room faster and faster and a green light appeared where they accumulated on the floor. It grew so bright that Thor had to look away from the amazing sight.

Then all grew still.

There was a thud and Thor opened his eyes, turning to look. Loki had collapsed, unconscious, in a heap on the floor and a smear of blood marked where his head had hit it. Back on the shelf, as if it had never moved, was the intact figurine.

Thor ran to his brother, calling his name and dropping to the floor next to him. He shook him and called his name over and again, but to no avail.

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Frigga stood in front of the display shelf, looking at the beautiful figurine which was in pride of place. It was of a young woman holding a Pink Asgardian rose and she looked the image of the Queen herself. And so she should. This was indeed Frigga herself, as she had been just before she was wed to Odin Borson, Prince of Asgard, as he had been back then. The figurine had been crafted beautifully and delicately and was a perfect likeness of the young maiden who had nervously posed for the artist’s schematic drawings only an hour before the ceremony. She was in a simple yet beautifully crafted wedding gown of the finest materials and her hair was swept back underneath a fine veil.

The Queen smiled as she looked at the figurine that had been crafted so many years ago. It had been instantly apparent that Loki had meddled with it when she had come in here two weeks ago to find her son unconscious on the floor. His green signature was all over it. Not everyone would be able to see it, of course. They would have to have enhanced or magical sight. To the casual onlooker, it simply looked like a lovely ornament. But to her magical eyes, it sang out with Loki’s vibrant green signature through the infinitesimally tiny cracks.

“Mother?” The voice of the younger Prince came from near the door and she turned to see him standing there hesitantly, waiting for her to invite him in. She frowned slightly at his appearance. He was even thinner than usual; his handsome youthful features looked pinched and very pale. The dark hair framing his face did not help matters, nor did his habit of wearing black and dark green. Frigga waved him in, “Come, Loki. Come and sit with me.”

It was the first time Loki had been back to this room since the incident of the smashed figurine and, as she moved away from the shelf to go to sit on one of the comfortable sofas, he caught sight of it. From the corner of her eye, Frigga watched his reaction with interest, then with pride and with love, as he was at first relieved that it was whole and then as he became aware of the green signature he had left behind. He glanced nervously at her as he came to sit with her and then looked down at his hands, where one picked at the skin of the other.

“You can see it, can’t you?” He mumbled.

Frigga ignored his question and asked her own: “Are you feeling any better, Loki? You still seem… somewhat frail.”

The young man she called her son smiled briefly, “I am, thank you. Eir has helped me a great deal and that tisane you left for me – as disgusting as it tastes – seems to be doing me the world of good. Thank you Mother.” He looked away, stealing a surreptitious glance at the figurine again, “I… er…” he began.

“It is wonderful!” Frigga smiled as she casually fluttered a hand in the direction of the figurine, which disappeared and materialised on the table in front of them. Loki watched with trepidation as she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. “You have done a marvellous job.”

Loki looked at her with uncertainty; the figurine looked far from marvellous to him – it had vibrant rays of green light erupting out from all over it where the cracks had not quite melded together again, allowing his magic to leak out.

“But, but…” He began.

“Loki, your magic is young! Untamed. Untrained. It is still raw, it is far more powerful than mine was at your age and, I feel, still growing.” Frigga placed the figurine back on the table and pointed a finger at it. A golden glow, much like Loki’s own of green, travelled from her fingertip and it surrounded the ornament. Within a few seconds, all the green light had gone and there was simply a pretty piece of pottery in the shape of a young bride-to-be. Loki hesitantly picked it up and turned it around, “But, how…?”

“It was your signature, Loki.” Said Frigga, “Every time you alter something with your magic, or create something – any time you use it, in fact, you will leave a mark behind. The real trick very often is not the magic itself, but the ability to disguise the fact that you used it. Do not worry, only those with their own magic or those with the sight, such as Heimdallr, would be able to see the glow. Yours has become a proper green, I see. Your magic is maturing from that which you exhibited as an infant and you seem to have taken on some of my skills, too. I think you have finally arrived at your true colour and this means you are really using it in your own right. You are not simply following incantations you have read or that I have taught you. Your magic is instinctive now, just like walking or laughing.” She stroked Loki’s face, smiling at him with a face that showed her love and pride and she now looked at him intently, “Loki, I am so proud of you! But there is something we need to address…” She ran a finger over his sunken cheek. “You damaged your health terribly when you did this. You need to learn how to control it. The power you used to mend this figurine was almost enough to destroy a small town! You only needed a fraction of that to achieve the repair.”

“Is that why I have become so thin?” Asked the young man, “I am also fatigued. Is this all a side effect?”

“Yes, Loki. But using magic should not tax you so. Not unless it is something you have to really struggle to cast. Magic uses massive amounts of energy but you can learn to be, let us say, more efficient. I want to teach you, my son. You have great power and with great power comes great responsibility. One day you will be able to use it to achieve amazing things.”

“Yes, Mother!” Said Loki, excitedly, “One day, when I am King, I will be able to rule the most powerful realm in Yggdrasil!” He shot his hand out, casting an imaginary spell, “I will be able to use my magic to help me and I will be invincible!”